


Public (In)Decency

by jellybeanforest



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Comedy, M/M, Pre-Slash, Remix, Sandcastles, Team Building, Tony is dickmatized, Vacation, wardrobe malfunction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:34:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22843348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellybeanforest/pseuds/jellybeanforest
Summary: Steve is a big, big boy, and Tony is dickmatized.Remix of “Pool Day” by Neverever. For the 2020 Cap-IronMan Remix Madness.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 22
Kudos: 212
Collections: 2020 Captain America/Iron Man Remix Madness





	Public (In)Decency

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Neverever](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neverever/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Pool Day](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2527586) by [Neverever](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neverever/pseuds/Neverever). 
  * In response to a prompt by [Neverever](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neverever/pseuds/Neverever) in the [2020_Cap_Ironman_Remix_Madness](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/2020_Cap_Ironman_Remix_Madness) collection. 



“I’m not coming out,” Steve says resolutely from behind the door. He has been in his room for twenty minutes, and Tony is growing impatient. The others have already hit the private beach just outside and were soaking in the sun, playing in the surf, building sandcastles… which meant that he only had another ten minutes before Thor stomped through all the prime real estate Clint had built up, and Tony wants to destroy at least one pristine tower.

He crosses his arms and leans against the door frame. “Cap–”

“No, Tony. This– this thing? It’s obscene. I’m pretty sure it breaks several public decency laws, and I will not subject the eyes of a lady – or anyone else for that matter – to this… this… Is this even considered clothing?” Steve frets.

“Eh, I’m sure Nat’s seen worse, Clint’s no saint, and Bruce bursts out of his clothing with frightening regularity. And then there’s Thor. Who can forget all the times he regaled us with tales of nude Asgardian oil wrestling in vibrant Technicolor detail? I had spank-bank material for weeks,” Tony divulges, imagining that constipated look of disapproval on Steve’s face at the mention of Tony’s masturbatory habits, but in his defense… Thor. Enough said. “The man has no shame, I tell you.” That’s something they both share.

“Well, I still do!”

“Is it the nipples? Because Cap… I don’t know how to tell you this, but these days, men are allowed to show their nipples in public. And women are coming around to it, too. Why, in less restrictive areas of the world–”

“Men’s swimwear was topless in my day, but this… I don’t know. This is another level.”

“How bad can it possibly be?”

Steve opens the door, and–

Tony stares.

Well, okay then.

Because Steve Jr. is large, in charge, and absolutely refusing to be constrained by something so flimsy as spandex, especially _white_ spandex which had the tendency to become nearly transparent when stretched to such extreme limits. The trunks aren’t completely white – because despite having the body of a Greek god, Steve didn’t quite have the confidence to pull it off – but the patriotic flag design he had chosen had some unfortunate placement of the thick vertical stripes, accentuating what the good doctor had given him.

Jesus Christ, is that suit even meant for adult men? Leave it to Steve to accidentally pick up something from the children’s section, because there is no way that is his size.

Speaking of size…

“My eyes are up here, Tony,” Steve states blandly, but when Tony fails to respond, much less peel his gaze away from the feast of dick before him, Steve sighs and wraps a beach towel around his waist, breaking the spell.

Tony blinks. “What were you saying again? I just sort of zoned out there for a minute.”

“That’s it. I’m staying in the beach house. Have fun without me,” Steve sounds resigned. “I’ll just catch up on paperwork.”

“What! No, Steve!” The whole point of a vacation is to _not_ work. When did Steve even slip such vile contraband into his suitcase? And who let him do such a thing? “This is a team-building exercise, remember? How are we expected to bond if our fearless leader is too afraid of showing off a little skin–”

“This isn’t ‘a little skin,’” and Tony can just about hear the quotation marks in Steve’s tone. “This is straight up nudity. I might as well go out there wearing nothing but body paint.”

_Now there’s a suggestion._

Tony’s eyes must have glazed over, because Steve puffs out his cheeks in exasperation. “I can’t believe I have to clarify this, but that would be a bad thing.”

“Look Cap, how about this: I fabricate you a new swimsuit using the automated loom in the Quinjet, yeah? Bespoke, custom-made to your rather-generous measurements,” Tony barrels on, ignoring Steve’s raised brow. “It can build an Iron Man suit in three hours, so swim trunks should be like… I don’t know. Five minutes? Probably less.”

But Steve still looks skeptical. “…What’s the catch?”

“Glad you asked, Cap,” Tony says, biting his lip. “J.A.R.V.I.S. is going to have to scan your body. Nude, of course.”

“…No.”

“J.A.R.V.I.S. can be discrete.”

“Can _you_ be?”

“Steve.”

“I said no, Tony.”

“Do it for the Avengers. It’s the very name of this mission: Team Building,” Tony holds up his hand in a flourish, palm out, sliding it across the air as if the words are emblazoned in large neon lights. He turns back to Steve, “There’s no TEAM without capTain AMErica.”

Steve is unimpressed. “I’d rather you not have nudes of me, thanks.”

“It’s going to be difficult to do the redesigns of all our outfits without them,” Tony points out. When Steve looks surprised, he clarifies, “S.H.I.E.L.D. contracted me to redesign all the Avengers’ suits for maximum movement, flexibility, and safety. I can be professional. I don’t see any of the pictures. J.A.R.V.I.S. just renders everything in blue models and deletes the actual scans from his data banks. No copies. No trace.”

When Steve still looks dubious, the man scratches the back of his neck. “When are you going to trust me, Cap?”

Steve breathes out slow. “…No copies?” he reiterates one final time.

“Scout’s honor,” Tony promises, holding up three fingers in the traditional salute.

“Alright then.”

* * *

“You took your sweet time,” Clint says when Steve and Tony finally show up, Tony in a red and gold number and Steve in basic dark blue with silver racing stripes down the side.

Tony looks at the toppled remains of busted sandcastles and sighs. Based on the volume of displaced sand, Clint had made a veritable city. So much for Iron Man-zilla terrorizing the grainy populace.

“What were you doing anyway? Playing a game of hide the salami?” Clint presses, eyes flicking down Steve’s frame. “Or maybe the baguette.”

Steve puts his hands on his hips and squares his shoulders. “What have you heard?”

“…What?”

“Clint’s just kidding, Cap. Trying to distract us from his failure to protect Bar-Town,” Tony says, kicking a few clumps of sand. Not even the moat survived. Thor takes no prisoners.

Clint shrugs. “Like you were all that concerned about the sand-crab populace.”

“Let’s just hit the water,” he suggests, but when only he and Clint start out towards the surf to join the others, Tony addresses Steve over his shoulder. “Cap? You coming?”

“I’ll catch up in a minute.”

* * *

“Steve…” Tony says ten minutes later as he gazes upon a misshapen lump that resembles a mound with the tiniest hint of boxy battlements at the top (if he squints) and a moat circumventing the lopsided structure. “It’s beautiful.”

“I was never much of a sculptor,” Steve says by way of an explanation, likely embarrassed that a trained artist could mold such an abomination.

“No. No, this is good,” Tony clasps his shoulder, his smile overwhelmingly fond. “Thank you.”

“Would you like to do the honors?”

_Yes, please._

Tony stomps forward, stepping through the mound, kicking off what might have been a tower in the center and pushing the fallen pieces into the surrounding moat. It’s no Bar-Town, but laying waste to Steve-sylvania is shaping up to be quite satisfying. The wet sand squishes through his toes, sticks to his legs and gets in his swimsuit, but Tony doesn’t care. He can always rinse off in the ocean.

And when he emerges, covered in sand and laughing, Steve steps forward and cups his cheek. Tony’s heart stutters as he freezes.

“Got some sand on your face,” Steve says, brushing off errant grains from his well-groomed Van Dyke along his jawline.

“…Thanks,” Tony manages. He’s pretty sure he’s blushing, but maybe he can pass it off as a temporary sunburn. “Say, um… you think when we go back to the City, you maybe want to get some pizza with me sometime?”

“Are you asking me out on a date?”

“It doesn’t have to be one,” Tony assures him, turning away, but when Steve doesn’t reply, he looks back, seeing what might be disappointment in the slump of Steve’s shoulders. “Unless…”

Steve perks up. “I’d love to, Tony.”

“Then it’s a date.”


End file.
